2004 to 2010
by PhiSat
Summary: Near remembers the past in the possible last 40 seconds of his life. May become connected to Ice, but you don't have to read Ice to enjoy this. Rated T for implied sexual themes.


**Hello people.**

**I needed a bit of a break from _Ice_, so I decided to write this little one-shot from Near's thoughts in the 40 seconds after Mikami wrote his name in the Death Note. Writing for Near is certainly... Different.**

**Also, I'm not done with _Ice_! This is just a side project. I may write a sequel from Linda's point of view later, if there are enough positive comments.  
**

**Enjoy.**

**-SonicCritic**

* * *

I always believed that the last thing I thought of would be along a more intellectual line. However, it seems life had a different plan for me.

For instead of being totally focused on unmasking Kira as Light Yagami in the possible last forty seconds of my life, had I made any error, I thought about you.

* * *

I was always alone, focused on any task that presented itself to me. The other children left me be unless I succeeded in some relatively difficult task, in which case they would come by to observe my work, sometimes even give faint praise. But it never lasted long. I was not one for social interaction, and they learned it.

All of them, except you.

You, Miss Linda, would never leave me be. You had your group of giggling girls, your admirers. Everywhere you went, you smiled and enjoyed yourself. Even being mere 6th in the academic standings could not dampen your spirit, and that is something admirable. But most admirable in my eyes is the fact that you were the only person who talked to me in words other than insults. You were the only one who found it worthy of your time to try to understand who I was.

At that time, I was not interested. Human emotion was something undesirable for me, an impediment unworthy of my intellect and time. However, you, Linda, are a persistent woman. Despite taking around three and half a months for me to finally respond to your kindness, you persevered.

And after another two months, I was willing to call you a friend, the only person worthy of such a title. When we shared classes and I was not permitted to remain sitting in a corner, I would sit beside you, and we would discuss anything you decided to speak of. I never initiated these conversations. I suppose I am not sociable enough for that. I spoke when asked to, when a response was necessary. On occasion, you would not speak at all, but would bring paper and pencils to sketch me as I pondered.

Two years passed in this fashion. We began to take fewer classes together, you began to become preoccupied. But when the normal separation began to ensure, I found myself… Refusing to accept it. I would attempt to find you at lunch. I would whisper a hello when we crossed in the hallways, you surrounded by your posse who would giggle and snort when they heard me, Near, the pajama-clad sheep, the strange intellectual, dare to speak to one so popular as Linda.

Yet…

* * *

It was two years, seven months since we first met when the message came through.

"_L is dead."_

I remember that day well.

To a bystander, it would seem I was unaffected by the news. It had certainly seemed that way to Mello. But the death of my idol was not something even I could take so easily.

To my own surprise, I found myself standing in front of your dorm, asking to be let in.

You were surprised as well. "What's going on, Near?"

"Just let me in. Please."

That simple word attached to the end of a sentence does wonders in social settings, and I am not normally sociable. Perhaps it was that which told you there was something terribly wrong. You let me in.

I remained standing in the center of the room. There was colour here; you'd obviously been painting on the walls, transforming them into a semblance of a kaleidoscope. Was no canvas large enough to contain the picture in your mind?

"It's Wammy's. I mean, it represents everyone here." You explained. I remember asking for an explanation.

"Well, those green lines over there, those are for Clara, and that squiggle's Zephyr, the red blot's Mello…"

"What am I?" A simple question, but one I myself did not understand the significance of. It shouldn't have mattered what I was represented by. They were mere splashes of colour on a wall, irrelevant to any information I would soon be given, such as details on the Kira case and proper access to L's fortune. Useful, relevant data. Yet… I wished to know. This painting was not simply a puzzle that could be easily solved. It was more, a glimpse into your, Linda's, thought process. Soul, if you will.

You said nothing for a long time, and turned away, as if you did not want me to know. However, I knew you, Linda, and there was a 34.35% you would show me. You liked showing off your art; that was a simple fact. You still do, if your fame is any indication. Yet at the moment, you finally returned your gaze to me.

"There's something wrong, Near. Tell me."

It was impossible to deny, even with my almost-perfect efforts to show I was unaffected. My presence in your dormitory was proof enough to the contrary. I remained standing. "L… L is dead."

Neither of us spoke. At that moment, if I was not aware that time was unable to be halted by simple human will, I could have argued it stopped.

Then you spoke. "So… You'll be leaving." It was a statement more than a question.

"Yes. But not immediately. I must prepare to face an appropriate government before I present myself as a proper successor to L." With that, I assumed a more comfortable position on the ground, curling one knee up to my body. Such a position was infinitely better for thought.

You edged closer. "I… I'm sorry, Near."

"What are you apologizing for? You were not the one to kill L."

"No, but…" You approached even more. "I'm sorry for you."

I kept my gaze on the ground. Such an apology did not truly make sense, yet I was… glad? "Thank you." I looked up. You smiled, and… and… My stomach fluttered. This account must be honest, and that is what took place. I refused to admit such a thing at the time, and returned my gaze to the floor, attempting to return to a purely logical state of mind.

"Near? I… I'll show you." I paused as you offered your hand to help me get up, not knowing how to respond. After a second, you retracted your hand and stepped back. Were you disappointed? It seemed like you might be as I got up to follow you. Of course it was impossible to go very far, the room was not that large.

You climbed up to the top bunk and I followed. "Okay, lie down."

"Excuse me?"

You sighed. "You can't see it properly unless you look up, st-." You cut off, but I knew what you were about to say and why you stopped. I don't tolerate knowledgeable inaccuracy. I didn't reply and as you lay down, I did the same.

Incomprehension.

"Please explain."

* * *

"This is my last week. Roger and I have located a suitable representative of the US government to speak to. Our meeting is set."

You did not speak, but continued to glance at the ceiling. "Let's go outside."

I got up and offered you my hand. You took it and we moved through the dark hallway. Neither of us spoke.

You once called us "Star-Crossed." Doomed to remain apart, for we always would remain apart after I left. There would become no way to contact me when I became L, save through Roger, who would never allow Linda to idly call. I would remain alone with my thoughts, solving cases, albeit worthy cases, until I died or another successor was properly trained. Such precautions as were necessary. Such is L's life.

Yet now that I was about to become it, I wished for more time.

Pathetic what simple emotional connection could make one become. I understood why I shunned it, and had been right to do so… However, I did not wish to give it up, now that it was mine. Is it worth it? I would say no. Yet it is still a beautiful thing worth keeping if you have already lost, which I had. It is possible I'd lost ever since I allowed myself to speak to you, Linda.

On the 26th of July, we shared our first kiss.

On the 27th of August, my last day at Wammy's House, we shared our last, and I held you close to me as night passed.

* * *

I do not claim to understand why you chose me to lavish attention upon. I do not know whether, had life been different, we would have become friends. On occasion, I wonder about you, whether you are happy, if you still think of me. If only in passing. A year and three months have passed, but… I suppose I shall never have this feeling pass. The one emotional bond I keep refuses to wear away.

For you, Linda. 

I have changed my mind. Perhaps I shall see you again, should I survive.


End file.
